Hauntings
by 0-moonwind
Summary: GLaDOS has found a new way to test, at least for now. Chell, Wheatley, Rick, and the others now find themselves dragged into staying at a haunted area, and they have no idea what awaits them. Written by both Topaz18 and 0-moonwind.
1. Chapter 1

The darkness exploded with such a graceful yet somehow disturbing feel, chilling the air and blooming like a spring rose into a gaping mouth of black. Time stopped, sound ceased to exist in the sudden stillness.

It was as if someone had grabbed his throat and proceeded to strangle him, managing to remain unnoticed in the sea of night. He could do nothing but gaze wide-eyed at the creature of obsidian haze that had swallowed him and his surroundings up. He could breathe, but something had ripped his vocal cords out of his throat like they were damp shreds of paper clinging to a hard surface. Metaphorically, of course. But, however hard he tried, however much oxygen he ran by them in huffs of exhausted breaths, they wouldn't make even the slightest squeak.

Strange thing was, he wasn't scared. This must be the oddest of all the absurdly impossible things happening around him, the glowing orbs of ominous blue light or the drifting stones and boulders occasionally floating by didn't compare to the fact he remained undaunted. He had a tendency to be the definition of skittish and nervous. Not only that, but he was probably so ignorant and awkward that he didn't notice the deep growls coming from somewhere twenty feet behind him.

But how else could any of this actually be happening? It must just be a dream.

It wasn't truly a nightmare. In a nightmare, you were actually fearful or worried, sad or angry. He was more bored than anything else.

Bizarre dreams came naturally to him. It was as if he was a sort of magnet for the strangest realms of reality in sleep. Just last night, he witnessed a gory murder of a sort of white horse by a grizzly bear, while chasing pixies in a field of marshmallow dragons, their jaws snapping menacingly close to the heels of his feet while he attempted to get back his glasses from the bug-winged humans. How tiring of a dream that had been!

Oh, how he longed for these dreams to leave him be. At first he had found them fun and quite entertaining, but now it was like he had experienced every scenario his mind had to come up with. It was always "been there, done that". Was there nothing new to explore? Surely the world had much more to offer than the pitiful predicaments he found himself in nightly. In the waking world, he was always overwhelmed by the constant flow of recent discoveries and unknown mysteries, the plethora of odd creatures and non-sequitur themes of stories and old books found in libraries, where a myriad of breathtaking fictions and poetry lay.

Why did he never have a dream about a library? That would offer countless tales of adventure and tragedy, love and horror. He had always loved them when Chell would take him to one, he would spend hours upon hours staring at the spines of books, deciding which one to read, taking one out to read the back or inside when he found one of interest.

A dark whirlpool of black water tugged him under its unbreakable current suddenly. He gasped, having regained control of his ability to speak, and flailed around helplessly as the liquid carried him deep under the surface of an ocean of ink. How long had there been a sea under his feet? Did it just appear out of nowhere?

Well, it _was_ a dream, now wasn't it? And who could say what was to happen in a dream? He certainly couldn't, despite that it was his own mind this was happening in. One could not imagine how aggravating it could be, not being able to conjure up his own thoughts for once. It was like someone else was in control of every little detail in his dreams. It reminded him of _Her_.

If he could, he would have shuddered at the thought. To have to do anything with Her and testing again would undoubtedly be the end of him. Even the thought of Her cold, computerized voice and charmingly cruel ways sent frightened shivers down his back.

The rush of water dragged him along with cold, icy claws, reaching out to grab him and bring him down to some unknown abyss. It filled his ears and mouth, flooding him with a creeping frozen feeling, starting in his chest, working its way up to his head. His eyes unbearably stung like fire; a black, cold fire dripping of ink.

Then, with a loud bubbling, the water evaporated, leaving him to fall helplessly down back onto the ground. He lay there for a moment, winded, eyes tightly shut and working hard to regain his lost breath. His hands scrabbled on the tile-like surface of the land. He could hear the echoes of his heavy breathing bounce back to him, as if he was in a large room of some sort. Except for his own sounds, all was dead silent. That is, if you didn't count the soft rustling of paper just at the edge of his range of hearing. His body felt frozen, as if the liquid had turned his insides to ice.

Eventually, his eyes heavy with drowsiness, he blinked them open.

A blindingly bright light entered his retina, his pupils contracting sharply to the sudden flash of whiteness. His vision fogged, wispy blue hands of mist clouded his surroundings that were currently invisible to him.

The sound of pages turning grew louder, more clear, like the absence of a good sense of sight had strengthened his hearing tenfold. It grew louder and louder, until the noise was right by his left ear, so high in volume that it pummeled his eardrums. It sounded like someone was very violently tearing pages out of a book, then crumbling them as loud as possible and tossing them across the room onto a pile of other balled-up pieces of paper. But, seeing his current position of lying sprawled on the floor, that was impossible, unless the person doing it was right next to him. He reached out with a bony hand, as if to make sure there actually wasn't anyone there, and only managed to feel more marble flooring and air smelling of decomposing cloth. How strange of a scent, it was.

"Ugghhh..." he moaned, closely followed by him coughing up more unnaturally black water from his tired lungs. Judging by the bitter taste to the water, it probably wasn't exactly safe for human consumption. He made sure to get all of it out of his system, which took a good five minutes of exhausted hacking.

"Wheatley..."

His head jerked up, blue eyes wide and mouth tightly shut, unlike before. He felt something in the back of his mind awaken, clicked like he should do something. Or know something. Anything than just stare blankly ahead at where the child-like voice had come from, penetrating the mist like an arrow through the skin and flesh of a deer. He sat up slowly, cautious of who or _what_ had said his name.

This was... Odd. He usually was fearless in his dreams, opposite of what he was in the waking world. But that voice... It had a tone to it, each sound dragged out in a longing sort of manner, soft, yet menacingly familiar in an everybody-knows-this way. It should have been quieter, he knew, the voice should have sounded more far-off. Which it did, but it had enough volume to cause him to slightly cringe. It sounded like something straight out of a horror movie. He had never had a taste for those, even the simplest ones sent goosebumps rippling along his spine, but he had watched enough to get the drift of most of them: A dead four year old child had been turned into a zombie, bloody eye sockets, hair dripping red fluid, calling out to whoever it could to gain attention, so it could terrify its victims even more so before it ripped their heart out or tore their bones apart. He obviously was _not_ happy to hear something so similar to the things he had seen on that screen. Then, he had Chell to tell him it was all fake, none of it could hurt him, but now he wasn't even taking it into consideration that this was just a dream. It sent his own heart into a fit of skipped beats and pounding against his ribcage, as if afraid that it would be torn out of its owner's chest.

He propped himself up with his arms against the floor, waiting with baited breath for something to happen.

"Wheatley..."

There it was again, this time higher-pitched and more like a taunt than a call. He blinked once, twice, as if doing so would summon the source of the voice to his limited line of vision.

_Curse this bloody fog,_ he thought. _For all I know, that-that THING could be directly behind me! It sounds like it's coming from everywhere at once! That's not possible, right?... Oh, blimey, where's Chell when you need her?_

"Wheatley!"

He jumped, head hitting the roof of the car with an unsettling _THUMP_.

"Ugh- GAH! Bloody hell! What happened? How long was I out? Where's the floor at?" he exclaimed loudly, knees coming up to his chest and arms momentarily flailing around, knocking over a box of mint Tic-Tac's in the process. The seatbelt around his waist managed to twist itself in loops from his neck to his left leg, pinning him in a particularly uncomfortable position. His right arm was somewhere above his head, stuck on some shelf in the ceiling. He attempted to pull himself free, only succeeding in bending his wrist in a painfully backwards style.

"Right I'm awake! I'm ready! I'm- wait, where are we, exactly?"

Chell was already the the silver car door, untwisting the seatbelt from around his left forearm. He pulled it free with ease, partially relieved by the absence of pain on at least on part of his body, partially because he wasn't actually sopping wet with some unknown liquid that smelled disgustingly sour and looked like someone had drenched him with a water balloon full of squid ink.

The next thing he knew, he felt a painful snap as his ankle was popped back into place by a lack of pressure from the whole of himself leaning stupidly on one foot. He yelped, still a bit wary from the echoing of the child's voice embedded in his head.

"I see the moron has gotten himself into quite a fix. As usual." an unearthly voice droned.

He pushed Chell away for a moment to see the slender shape of Her staring disapprovingly down at him. Her white hair glistened almost blindingly in the sunlight, yellow eyes as dull and emotionless as ever.

"Tell me when your years of getting him to stay still is over," she yawned, pulling an infuriating look of boredom.

His ears went red as he realized for the first time exactly what he must look like. A tall, lanky man trapped by a gray strap of fabric probably looked as if it would take months for him to get out of the position he was in.

He put on an equally disappointed scowl, turning his head away with an abstracted air. Pride wasn't a personality trait of his, but he certainly had a good sense of it. Especially when he was trying to avoid getting insulted even further by an unforgiving and stubborn lady with an addiction to "Science".

She snorted. "I'll be inside." And with that, she disappeared into the undergrowth of the forest-like garden behind her. The leaves rustled, brushing against low-hanging branches of small trees and ivy creeping its way up their trunks.

He raised one eyebrow suspiciously. "There's a _house_ in all that?"

Chell looked behind her casually like it was no big deal, then turned back to him and nodded. Judging by the expression on her face, the jungle wasn't something to get too obsessed over.

He blinked at her absently, then spoke again. "Where are we, exactly?"

Chell just continued unwrapping the seatbelt from him, not even opening her mouth to respond. Her eyes were as dull and expressionless as ever. He had no idea how he had ever gotten used to such a stoic gaze.

It had taken thirty minutes at the least to get him completely out of the car- which he had just stupidly realized he had no memory of even entering the vehicle- and regained complete blood flow to all his body parts. He must have stood on one leg for over a year, or at least it felt that way.

Chell dragged him unwillingly by one arm into the woods that was supposedly a garden, his feet squashing countless weeds making their way across other plants and rocks that dug deep into the muddy earth.

"Wha- wait! D-don't go in there! You saw _Her _go, it's a trap! A bloody trap, I tell you! Since when did you trust that psychopath? Are you mad! You really _do_ have brain damage, don't you! Or are you just tired of old Wheatley always going on about nothing? That must be it, isn't it! You're with Her on this one, aren't you!" he continued his arguments, most of which did not even reach his friend's ears because he was either facing the opposite direction or had his face buried into some strand of ivy dangling down from a tree.

She had to practically make sure she led him through things that would get him stuck; deep mud, tall grass, bushes. Anything to keep him from bolting off back to the car. But as if he could get any farther than that. He couldn't even get the microwave to work without setting something on fire.

"Hey! See you brought the moron with you," a deep voice called out somewhere to the far left of them. Chell turned to see a man with jet-black hair, wearing a brown leather jacket and heavy-looking boots. A black strap of fabric stretched from his shoulder to his waist, although the point for the strange accessory was unknown to her.

Wheatley stopped struggling behind her momentarily at the sound of his voice, narrowing his bright blue eyes at the man.

"Oh, hi, Rick," he said in an almost moan-like tone.

Rick flashed a overly-cheery smile at the both of them. "Glad you could come. Honestly, I don't need help. But it's nice to know a pretty lady like you is concerned enough to stop by."

Chell made the same loathing face as the tall man she currently had an iron grip on. "I came because She told me to, Rick."

The tan man didn't seem to be put down by her abrupt remark. "Heh. Can't go against Her, now can you? Anyway, come on. It's best not to keep you-know-who waiting. And I do mean she's as bad as that snake guy from those wizard books."

"_Harry Potter_, and you mean Lord Voldemort," she corrected him.

He shrugged. "Yeah, whatever."

Rick turned and trudged through the brush, signaling them to follow with a waving hand.

Once he was hidden completely by the foliage, Wheatley turned to his companion. "What was that all about? Help?"

Chell looked at him, and nodded. "She said there's something in his house that would be, and I quote, 'The perfect environment for observations of human fright and adrenaline reactions'."

Wheatley gave her a quizzical expression. "Observations? Oh, please don't tell me she has a new 'test'."

She nodded again, and he swallowed.

Still keeping her grip on his arm, she walked towards the place where Rick had vanished and tugged him through countless thornbushes and overgrown flower beds.

A white house came in view, seven figures standing impatiently up on a patio near the rear of the structure. Even the stones that surrounded the area were cracked and filled with both live and dead leaves, and it looked on the brink of falling down altogether.

"There you are. We've been waiting for such a long time now."

She stood, hand on one hip, at the front of the crowd, which was now recognizable. Morality, Anger, Fact, Space, Rick, Her, and Curiosity were all glaring down at them with eyes of all colors.

"I'd like to let you know that this house of Rick's is haunted."

* * *

**Hi! I case you're wondering, I'm not entirely sure what compelled me to write a story with another author, but I'm sure glad I did! Topaz18 is one of the nicest people out there, patient, too. Oh, and this first chapter was written by me. I came up with the idea, mostly because I love ghosts, but I think Topaz18 will be the one that's putting more work into this, because I am the laziest person on earth, despite the fact I'm always busy. Oh, and unlike my other stories, all the characters are human this time, and living "normal" lives for some odd reason I cannot explain.  
**

**If you see a mistake, please point it out. It was some early hour in the morning when I last ran this over, so I'll no doubt have missed something.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

He sat up, startled. Where was he? Black mist surrounded him and he seemed to be floating in the air as well. Where in the world...? As he examined his surroundings closer he found that something was missing. Something obvious, yet completely… forgettable. He couldn't control the blackness; he couldn't make it go away. It was cold and dark. He absolutely despised cold and dark.

Suddenly, he wasn't alone. A little girl walked up to him, cheerful and happy, much unlike the black fog around him. She wore a bright red dress and a huge yellow bow was in her strawberry blonde hair. He was about to ask her where she came from when he found he couldn't. His lips made the shapes of the words, but they didn't leave his lips. Then, the girl growled. It was kind of cute, except for the menacing glare in her eyes.

Suddenly she changed. Her dress was still red, not with cloth, but with blood. The bow was still yellow, but only because it was covered with maggots. Her face was still cute, if you ignored the gaping holes where her eyes should be and the huge scar across her head. He tried to run away in the mist, but he suddenly couldn't feel his legs. They were all frozen in place.

The girl slowly walked toward him with a stuttering step. He tried to scream, but he couldn't speak. The girl was right in front of him now, and for a second her form flashed back to the sweet girl, but then it was gone. The thing is, that sweet little girl he had seen before, he remembered her from somewhere, but he forgot. He stared into her eyes, mentally pleading for her to move on, but she smiled wickedly. Her yellow teeth were stained with blood, and her lips were caked in the putrid liquid too.

A piercing sound erupted from the mist erupting it like, an arrow to the open skin of a knee. The girl shrieked as a strong gust of wind disturbed the mist, sending her flying into the abyss, slowly melting into the shadow. He recognized the sound as a word.  
"Wheatley!"  
That name was familiar, if he could just grasp it…  
"Wheatley!"  
Okay, that was definitely familiar, he heard it before...  
"Wheatley, wake up you moron!"  
That voice he remembered. He could picture the hostess's figure, white hair, golden eyes and...  
"Wheatley, wake up, now!"  
Her! That was Her! And She was telling him to wake up? But he was already awake! Wait, no. Never mind. This is a dream isn't it? It must be because...  
"Ow!"  
He sat up and held his face in terror, all traces of the dream gone. She stood posed above him, hand still hovering in mid-air. "Why'd you slap me?" She just glared at him, head held high, obviously not caring that she might have left a permanent red mark on his face. "Because you decided to go all psycho once I told you that- Mmh mroh mmh!" Her voice was muffled by Chell's hand. Chell's had her hand wrapped around Her mouth, causing Her to jerk away. Chell still held on, and was smiling at Wheatley very widely, in a creepy kind of way.

She reached up and slapped Chell's hand. "Get your hands off me, lunatic!" She then kicked her hard in the shin. "Ow!" A slap to Her face, then a slap to the other. As he watched them fight, Wheatley noticed his back was against some kind of brown and rough round wall that- wait that must be a tree! He shook his head at the thought that he, Wheatley the Astute, would forget such a valuable thing like that.

Above him were thousands of vines tangled together with an assortment of leaves and sticks sticking out here and there. The long green plants wormed their way toward the top of the tree, clinging onto branches and limbs in their desperate race to the sun's refreshing rays. The vines, along with the trees branches, blocked out the sun, leaving only little sparkles of sunlight to dance down and cradle the new life on the forest floor. Wheatley recognized that the vines were kind of like humans, greedy and always trying to steal the gifts of life from others. Their race seemed so messed up.

Seriously, he thought, look at Chell and Her, almost in a full out slapping war. Wait, never mind, it _is_ a slapping war. "Hey." A sweet voice penetrated the growls of the battling, but the enemies didn't notice it. He turned toward the voice. "Take my hand." He did as told and took the young woman's hand, not looking up at her face, glad to be paid attention to. She pulled him up from the ground into a standing position and Wheatley dusted himself off, sending pounds of dust and dirt flying into the once-clean air.

He glanced back up at the girl again. "Are you feeling better?" She asked with concern in her voice. His brow furrowed naturally as it always does in confusion. "What do you mean?" She sighed, leaned down, and casually picked up a huge stick and started fiddling with it.

The stick seemed odd and different from the other thousands of sticks laying around them in scattered clumps. It had a weird gray hue and was slightly Y-shaped. There were three large knots, one at each end, and had small black dots on it. Something seemed special about this stick, but it seemed the woman didn't notice it.

Wheatley still couldn't quite remember her name; he was still getting his thoughts in order. Sometimes after he woke up from a weird dream, he had to take a moment to sort his thoughts and separate the true from the false. Now, he told himself, back to the real world.

Chell and Her still were fighting and the woman was getting agitated. "Hey!" They ignored the woman. Wheatley slowly stepped closer to the tree, already seeing the outcome. "Hey!" Chell slapped Her. She kicked Chell. Wheatley slowly stepped back a little further. No one listened. In anger and frustration, the once nice and patient girl hurled the stick both of them, missing them by a few inches. "HEY!" Wheatley jumped behind the tree, trying to hide all of his flimsy arms behind the moss-covered tree.

It seemed this act of defense pointed the accusation fingers straight at him. "Wheatley! Why you moron, I am going to kill you! What makes you think you can throw a stick at me and get away with it?" She scrambled up and lunged for him as he tried to disguise himself behind the hanging vines that draped over the trees. It was times like then when he regretted not taking that mountain climbing class. He desperately reached for the green snake-like plants, but whenever he finally got a grip on one, the vine would twist out of his hand like ice on a hot Saturday afternoon. But, She was still heading straight for him, getting closer and closer with every step. "Once I'm through punching all the blood out of you you'll have less density than an oven-baked-" Wheatley stopped listening then, getting very annoyed at the liquid-like tree suffocaters. Suddenly, Her endless threats stopped.

"Whoa, whoa. GLaDOS, calm down, it was me." He dared to peek through the twisting branches and vines at the scene before him. The girl had a hand resting on Her shoulder, restraining Her from moving any further. She scoffed. "Get your filthy hands off me." Compared to how She reacted when Chell stopped her and how She was in a bumbling fury seconds ago, this was a great improvement in mood. How odd. No one Wheatley knew could restrain Her. She took a deep breath and muttered so softly that Wheatley had to strain his ears and step frighteningly close to hear. "Don't call me that." The girl whispered something in Her ear that he couldn't hear. Chell stood a couple of feet back and stared questioningly.

When the girl stepped back, he finally got a good look at her. She wore a purple shirt that ruffled at the hips, jeans, and a necklace holding a purple eye that glinted in the sunlight. That looked just like... Wheatley looked down at his wrist were a blue optic was. Hmm... Her hair was a purple-streaked white and fell straight down to her shoulders. Ah, she was Morality! How did he not recognize her before? Probably because his stupid brain was so slow. He hit himself in the head. But wait, maybe she didn't look like she normally did because she was covered head to toe in dirt and dead leaves. Great, now he had a headache for nothing.

Morality looked up at Wheatley and he shyly glanced away. "Wheatley, what do you remember?" He looked back at her confusingly, brows furrowing as presumed. "Umm... Last thing I remember was... walking up to this mansion house and seeing everyone there?" Chell and Morality shared a worried glance, although She just glared at him like he was an idiot. Morality put a hand on his shoulder and he struggled to resist shaking it off, but then noticed it was quite comforting. Not in a weird way, but it was like a warm ray of sunlight floating through a bedroom window or a kitten's soft, fluffy fur. For some reason he liked cats, he didn't know why. He thought about cats for a second, and then he noticed that Morality was talking again. He mentally slapped himself and tried to pay attention.

"Okay, She has gathered us here to test, and She said that Rick's house was haunted, when you heard this you started spazzing out." Spazzing out? Why would I start spazzing out? Wait, Rick's house was haunted? Like in ghosts and ghouls and brain-eating zombies? The image of the creepy soulless eyed girl appeared in his head. Wheatley shook his head, half in denial and half in trying to get that image out of his head.

He didn't remember that happening, and whatever you can't remember doing, didn't happen, right? "Yes, that did happen, and yes Rick's house is haunted. When you heard that you ran into the forest, but you tripped over this tree stump," When she first replied he thought she read his mind, but then he figured he might've said that last thought aloud. Morality gestured to a fallen tree. "And hit your head. It is now a couple of hours later and you just woke up." Every word she said resounded through his head, scaring him some, but calming him more. So, he went insane, hit his head and was knocked unconscious, but he still had one question; why wasn't he going insane now? Maybe since he was farther from the house, it didn't affect him as much. Or maybe, it was because-

"Excuse me, but while your idiotic brain is trying in vain to remember how humiliating it was running like a coward into the forest, there is science waiting impatiently to be done." Why did she always have a snappy comment for everything? He spoke his thoughts, but instantly regretted it. But Chell still stomped up to Her and slapped her face. "Why you-"

"Hey!" Morality jumped in between them, arms out. "How about we head back and you get both of your wishes granted? You get science, and you get silence." Still glaring at each other, the women relented and walked into the opposite direction of Wheatley, still keeping a large distance in between them. It was now that Wheatley noticed something.

"Chell never talks to Her, does she?" Morality shook her head. "I guess it is because Chell still wants to hold her silence against GLaDOS, she never really forgave her." His eyes widened, "Shhh. Don't call Her that! She gets really angry when you do that." Morality turned her head from the woods to look at him. "She doesn't get angry, she gets jealous. Come on." Wait, what? Why would the Queen be jealous?

Wheatley suddenly noticed that Morality was moving away from him and started to run. Pine needles crunched underneath his feet as Wheatley retraced his steps to where the slapping war occurred. Morality paused, causing Wheatley to smash into her. She ignored him and leaned down to receive something on the ground. When she stood back up the grayish stick she threw at Chell was in her hand. She observed it carefully for a moment as he regained his composure. She poked the sharp end of it and her finger came away with blood. "You might need this." She said and tossed the stick at Wheatley.

It was surprising how long it took to arrive back at the house. Wheatley chatted subconsciously most of the time, not really aware of the words that sputtered out of his mouth, but it seemed Morality didn't notice either, so it didn't really matter. He was glad for Morality being there, if it weren't for her he would've gotten lost in two seconds flat in the twists and turns of the jungle. It was wonderful to finally see the house again, even if it was haunted.

The setting sun cast an eerie glow over the logs and branches the androids were using for chairs. Now, as darkness grew and light faded, the old rickety mansion did look haunted, and it was starting to creep him out. He wouldn't let the others see, of course, but as the light ebbed his renewed courage did too. He was glad when Rick finally used his brain for once and built a fire. But, he wouldn't stop bragging about it. The flames flickered shadows onto the androids faces, and in the dark they looked exactly like humans. Well, of course they were programmed to, but the lack of light seemed to enhance the effect.

He once heard that a silence would never be awkward unless you make it. This moment was pretty awkward. "So…" Never mind, just made it more awkward. Everyone stared into the fire, completely bored and oblivious. "Fact: We are not doing anything productive." Everyone turned to glare at the pink-eyed fact core. "What, it's true!" Shaking Her head She stood up. "Morality go over there and calm Wheatley." Morality walked across the small clearing and put her hand on my shoulder. The looming shadows of the garden jungle seemed to disappear for a moment. How does she do that?

"Now, as you know, I gathered you here for some testing on the human fear. You will need to go into Rick's house and stay in there for a week." A loud splash came to my ears. I turned to see Rick sputtering on his 'cool' water flask. "A week? Are you serious?" Rick suddenly noticed everyone staring at him. Rick straightened his back and tried to cover up his mistake. "I mean yeah, totally I can spend two weeks in there! I mean, I ain't scared of nothing! Yeah…"

She glared at him. "Don't interrupt me, coward! Anyway, I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," another glare, "You will stay in his house for a week and I will observe what scares you most and adrenaline reactions. You will be paired up into groups of four. Group One will conclude of Space, Curiosity, Chell, and Rick."

Murmurings were heard around the fire. "Space. Someone said space. Ooh look at the moon, look at the stars. Star. Star. Star."

"Hey, Space what is your favorite star? Are stars hot? Are fires hot? Do you smell something burning?"

"Fact: This means that I am paired up with Morality, Anger, and the Intelligence Dampening Android."

Rick spoke the loudest, "Yeah, all girls! Except for Space, but we'll just ditch him and-"

"Rick, we have a change of teams for you, you are now with Morality, Fact, and Wheatley. Anger, you are on Team One now." Anger growled in frustration, but Curiosity did what she was best at; asking questions. "What about you?"

"I am going to be watching you through the cameras which I had installed in between your eyes. And no, they are not visible; I installed them when you were out." No one seemed to notice Her brief reply, except him. So she could actually see through the tops of their foreheads? When did he give her permission to do that? And why were they 'out'? Suddenly his stomach growled. When was the last time he ate? It seemed Curiosity was thinking the same thing. "Can we eat?" She turned to Curiosity and said with a smile on her face, "No!" Chell slapped her, but Morality spoke for Chell. "Stop, being sarcastic!" She rolled Her eyes and chunked a sandwich at Curiosity. "Ow, but thanks!"

He slowly raised his hand, "Can I- OW! That hurt! Are you like a lumberjack or som- no, not like being a lumberjack is bad. They can, you know, throw things and… uh…yeah!" After he was finished babbling with no control of his mouth, he looked down at the sandwich now almost crumbs in his hand. When was the last time he ate? He didn't really know, but bit into the sandwich anyway.

The moon rose slowly into the sky until it was brighter than a neon street light. The stars twinkled above them like scattered glitter sequins spilled over a black table. Space was going insane. "Oh, look at all the stars! I can count them! Star 1. Star 2-" Each of us were alone in our thoughts and a couple of small conversations were shared around the sandwiches. He was having a decent conversation about cats with Morality when She stood up.

"Okay everyone! Time for some science!" Oh no. Fear pitched in Wheatley's heart. "Oh no. I am not going anywhere close to that house in the pitch black night. Even with the moon, there is no way I am going in there! I don't care about science, I care about my life! I-..." The rambler looked down at Morality's hand on his shoulder and felt a wave of calm. Once again he questioned, how did she do that? "Morality, be sure to stay with the moron." Anger bubbled up inside of him. "Hey!" She glared at him and tilted her head. "What?"

"Uh, I forgot." More glares.

Even though it was only twenty feet to the doors, he was shaking every step of the way. "Okay, this is where the two teams split up. Team One, take the right door, and Team Two, take the left." The two doors stood ahead of us as we got in line. Morality grabbed onto his arm, "Are you ready?" Wheatley smiled and lied, trying not to portray how shattered he was inside.

"Each door leads to a completely different part of the mansion, so don't get lost. Plus, I might've forgotten to say this, but Rick's mansion has three floors and is practically a maze. Also, you get no lights at all. So, good luck!" She stepped away and gestured to the doors. The bubbling fear in his heart almost made him run back into the woods, but common sense told him it would be darker there. No one stepped forward. "Are you serious? Look, I'll show you that there is nothing completely crazy about this house. Watch"

She stepped into the doorway, the dark shadows looming behind her. "See, nothing. Nothing but a boring, old, empty hou- AHHH!" A scream erupted from Her vocal cords as She suddenly disappeared into the blackness. The scream resounded through the forest, echoing in the trees, until suddenly, it stopped. Wheatley was shocked. Then when no one moved, the door slammed.

* * *

**This was written by Topaz18. I honestly think it's pretty dang great, but I'm probably going to be staring into space for about three days before I can come up with anything to write. Because I'm horrible at continuing cliffhangers, unlike how well Topaz writes them.**


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